Keeping Warm
by damnitjillkatherine
Summary: Young Indiana Jones is determined to keep after those looters, but after a couple years, he ends up partnering with one of them. Slash, underage foolin' around.


**Keeping Warm  
><strong>Disclaimer: These guys do not belong to me.  
>Rating: R. Underage foolin' around.<br>Summary: Young Indiana Jones is determined to keep after those looters, but after a couple years, he ends up partnering with one of them.  
>Notes: The character who gives Indy the fedora is never named, so I gave him the name of the actor who played him.<p>

* * *

><p>"You lost today, kid. But you don't have to like it."<p>

Indiana glared at the looter from under the man's own fedora. His face felt hot with embarrassment and anger. The man threw him a mock salute as he turned to leave the house.

"See ya 'round, Jones."

…

About eight months later, Indy did see him again. His bugle-playing Boy Scout friend, Herman, informed him that he'd seen a group of suspicious-looking men heading back towards the arches. Despite his friend's protests, Indiana couldn't resist heading out to try and thwart them a second time.

When he reached the dig site, about a half-mile from the previous one, Indy could see that the men had stumbled upon a Native American burial ground. A completely intact clay pot and a piece of silver jewelry sat on a crate while the group continued to dig. Indy flattened himself against a boulder. This time, he had dressed in clothes that would camouflage him much better than his Scout uniform: dark trousers, his dad's old leather jacket, and the looter's fedora. He'd also brought a canvas bag to make liberating artifacts a little easier. He inched closer to the crate, watching the backs of the men as they dug and talked. When the artifacts were secure in his bag, he slowly inched backwards until he was once again shielded by the boulder. He stood there for a minute, letting his heart rate return to normal, before moving as quickly and quietly as possible to the place he had hidden his horse.

The first angry shouts came just as Indiana had tucked the artifacts into his saddlebags. Cursing, he mounted quickly and gave the horse a sold kick. By the time he heard a car engine start, he was two hundred yards gone towards town, horse going full tilt. He could hear the vehicle behind him, but a quick glance backward showed the men to still be a half-mile or so away.

Indy reached town first, looters a few hundred yards behind. He slid off his horse, looped the reins around a railing outside the old bank, grabbed his bag of artifacts, and took off running down Main Street. When he heard his pursuers' car coming up close behind him, Indy made a sharp turn down an alleyway too narrow for vehicles. He heard swearing and then a pair of boots hitting the ground.

"You lot stay in the car in case he comes back out on Main!" a man yelled as he took off running. Indiana made a quick dodge into another side alley, hoping the looter didn't know his way around town that well. Just as he went to make another turn, he felt a hand grab the strap of his bag, spin him around, and slam him up against the side of a brick building.

"You again!" Indy peered through his curtain of hair to see that it was indeed the man who had given him the fedora. The boy couldn't suppress a cocky grin.

"Me again," he said, chin tilted up in defiance.

"Jesus Christ, kid. If you weren't such a goddamn thorn in my side, I could actually like you," said the looter as he yanked the bag off of Indiana's shoulder. "Where's my hat?"

"Saddlebag," mumbled Indy. "Didn't want to lose it."

"Smart," replied the looter. "That's a good hat." He used one hand to keep the struggling Boy Scout pinned against the wall while he slung the canvas bag around his own neck. The man paused, arm still pressing on Indy's chest, then used his free hand to brush a few windblown strands out of the boy's face.

"Get a haircut, Jones," he said. "Pretty face like that, long hair makes you look like a girl." He released Indiana and headed back to the car, leaving the boy too stunned to do anything but stand there and watch him leave. The he scowled.

"I do not look like a girl!"

…

So Indiana got a haircut. That plus the whip scar on his chin made him look several years older than his age of fourteen. A week after the encounter with the looters, Indy opened his family's mailbox and found his canvas artifact bag, empty except for a small turquoise bead and a note that read:

_Young: 2  
><em>_Jones: 0_

At first, he was angry at being taunted. But then he grinned. This could be the start of something interesting. Indy tucked the bead into the fedora's hatband, slung the bag over his shoulder, and whistled his way back into the house.

This might be fun.

…

Over the next year, Indiana made it his hobby - almost his obsession - to follow and attempt to thwart Young's gang of looters. After the third time, when Indy successfully liberated three Spanish coins from a dig site, the gang began posting someone on guard duty at every raid. Indy had to get more creative. He started practicing with the same type of whip that had given him the mark on his chin, and he became frighteningly proficient within a couple months. He'd only given himself one more scar, on his wrist, before he'd learned how to aim effectively.

His fourth attempt on Young's gang ended badly. He tried to blind the lookout but ended up having to run for it without his whip when it got tangled around a cactus. But the next time, he managed to wrap the long leather weapon around a gold candlestick, yank it right out of Young's hand, and make it to the sheriff's office while the looters were still too surprised to give chase. Since the gang didn't have a wealthy sponsor for that particular grave robbery, the sheriff had no choice but to side with Indiana, a triumph the boy would bask in for weeks. Especially when he found another note three days later.

_Young: 3  
><em>_Jones: 2  
><em>_yer gettin good_

Indy started to get cocky. He began borrowing the six-shooter his father kept over the fireplace. _He'll never notice, _he figured. He quickly found out he needed practice when Young's lookout just laughed at him after he shot a rock thirty feet to the man's left.

So Indiana began target practice at Herman's house, not wanting to arouse his studious father's suspicions. The lookout didn't laugh at him the next time when Indy's shot hit a rock three _inches _from the man's left foot. He jumped, dropped the nautilus fossil he was holding, and dashed for a cave. Indy grabbed the fossil and made it to the local museum before the man could even get over his embarrassment enough to tell Young what had happened.

_Young: 4  
><em>_Jones: 3  
><em>_well done_

By the time Indiana reached his sixteenth birthday, the count had reached 11 to 9, with Young still in the lead. Indy had successfully rescued Native pottery, Spanish armor, dinosaur bones, and part of a mummy, all of which had been sent to museums. He'd also received one concussion, two cases of heat stroke, and a dislocated shoulder sustained in a wrestling match with Young himself over an antique lantern.

"I hate to do this, kid," the man had said, knee in Indy's lower back, the boy's left arm twisted behind him, "but I need this more than you do." He pushed down hard. Indy heard a pop, then pain shot through his entire arm and shoulder. He cried out, stopped struggling, and felt Young lift off of him.

"See ya 'round, Jones."

…

After his doctor visit, Indiana was instructed to keep his left arm in a sling for a week and to go easy on it after that. Four days later, he found another not in the mailbox. No numbers this time, but Young's scrawl was unmistakable.

_tired of keepin score  
><em>_we should talk_

Indy tried to laugh, but the movement jarred his shoulder painfully. Every encounter with the looters got more and more dangerous. Even though the idea grated on him, Indy figured if he ever wanted to see eighteen, he'd better talk to this guy.

So he waited. He knew Young and his buddies had to get supplies in town, so Indy picked a rocking chair on the porch of the General Store, and he waited. All day, for three days. On the evening of the third day out there, just as the sun was going down and setting the desert on fire, he felt someone sit down in the chair next to him.

"How's the arm, kid?" Young asked.

"Fine," said Indy. "Last day in the sling. And I'm not a kid."

"Sure," Young chuckled. Indy scowled at him from under the fedora.

"You said we should talk. Well, talk."

"Y'know, I _do _like you, Jones. Even if you have been a goddamn thorn in my side." Young leaned back in the chair, tipping up the dark straw hat that had replaced the one he gave Indy. "But I'm gettin' tired of this vigilante shit. How 'bout you join me?"

"_Join _you?" Indiana was too surprised to keep up his tough guy act. "Have you forgotten about the part where I've been trying to _stop _you?"

"Let me finish, kid. Join me - quit takin' potshots at my crew and stealin' my finds - and I'll make you a deal. _You _find something, _you _decide where it goes. If _I _find it, _I _decide. Sound fair?" Indiana looked at Young carefully.

"What's your 'crew' going to think of this?" he asked. Young shrugged.

"Don't know, don't care. If they don't like it, they can leave. They're just hired shovels. You, on the other hand," he said, leaning forwards towards the boy, "_you _have potential."

"Really," said Indy, flushing a little with pride. He met Young's intense stare for as long as he could, then blushed a little more and looked away. "Alright, I'll do it." It was hard to pass up the opportunity to do some real treasure hunting.

"Excellent!" Young stood up and ruffled the hat on Indiana's head. "I'll leave you mail when I've got us a site. I'll see ya 'round, Jones."

"Indy," he mumbled, causing Young to turn back towards him. He cleared his throat. "My name's Indiana." The looter grinned and held out his right hand.

"Rich," he said, shaking the boy's hand. "See ya 'round, Indy."

…

The note came two weeks later, just as Indiana was getting full mobility back in his left shoulder.

_15 miles west of town  
><em>_mine shaft  
><em>_bring a lantern_

Indy loaded up his horse with enough food and water for three or four days, told his father a lie about a Boy Scout camping trip, and took off west. As he approached the old shaft, the two 'hired shovels' leapt to their feet and reached for their revolvers.

"Hold up, fellas," said Rich. "He's comin' with us."

After a ten-minute explanation and shouting match - especially vehement from the man who'd almost lost his left foot - the men quit and ditched the site.

"Told you they wouldn't like it." Indy looked sheepish. Rich clapped him on the back.

"And I told you, I don't give a rat's ass about them. Let's set up camp."

Dusk had fallen by the time they'd set up two canvas tents, the digging supplies, and a firepit with a grate over it. Rich peeled potatoes and opened soup cans. It was truly nighttime when they'd finished their rudimentary stew, but Indiana was far too excited to even think about sleeping. Rich noted the way his eyes flicked back and forth from the gear to the mine entrance and back again.

"I reckon you don't feel like waitin' 'til morning," the older man said. Indy shook his head. "Well, it's gonna be black as night down there anyways. We might as well get to it." Rich laughed as Indiana knocked over the cooking pot in his scramble to get up. The moon rose slowly into the clear sky as they gathered shovels, pickaxes, flares, ropes, and lanterns. Rich double checked that the horses and the foodstuffs were secured, and they made their way into the mouth of the mine.

About a hundred yards in, the floor dropped away into the dark. Rich pulled a flare from his haversack, lit it, and tossed it into the shaft. It found the floor about two hundred feet down, illuminating carts, a pulley system, and a ladder that had long since rotted into uselessness. Indy fixed their longest rope to a tall stalagmite and began to rappel down alongside the ladder. Rich followed as soon as the boy reached the cavern floor. Indiana left the flare lit until the other man reached the bottom and then extinguished it, not realizing what damage it had already done. As they made their way through the lower level tunnel, Rich paused and sniffed the air.

"Do you smell wood smoke?" They turned towards the tunnel's entrance and saw one of the support beams going up in flames. Rich heard it creak just in time to shove Indy in the opposite direction. "Run!" They sprinted away from the burning beam, reaching another large natural shaft just in time to watch the tunnel collapse behind them.

"Well, shit," said Indy. He realized he was clinging to Rich's arm and quickly let go. "Now what?"

"Now we look for the other exit," said Rich. "Mines always have more than one way out. Put out your lantern. We should save fuel." Indiana did as he was told, then shuffled closer to the other man's light. He didn't _think _snakes lived this far underground, but he wasn't going to take any chances. They surveyed the room and found three more tunnels leading in all different directions.

"Trial and error?" asked Indy.

"Trial and error, kid. Let's go." They followed the first tunnel for what felt like an hour, twisting every which way, until it came to an abrupt end. They men sighed and turned around, Indy keeping close to the lantern light. The second tunnel went on for another hour, sloping steadily downward until it reached another shaft that descended into darkness. Deciding that going even deeper underground was probably a bad idea, they again turned around.

By the time they started down tunnel number three, Indy was feeling cold but optimistic. This one had have the exit, right? But when they reached the end and walked out into yet another large cave with no apparent outlet, the boy's heart fell. Despair crept into his chest along with the damp chill of the cave. He felt his teeth start to chatter.

"What are we g-gonna d-d-do?" he mumbled, wrapping his arms around his chest. Rich looked at the boy with surprise. Having spent many hours underground, the older man had known to put on an extra layer or two, but Indy was wearing nothing warmer than his old leather jacket.

"First, we're gonna keep you from gettin' hypothermia," said Rich. He searched the room for a patch of dirt that would hopefully be a few degrees warmer than the bare rock. He also located an old canvas tarp that had been left behind by some careless miner. "C'mere," he beckoned to Indy, settling down on the dirt with the canvas wrapped around himself, one arm holding it out for the boy. He hesitated at first, but a powerful shiver changed Indy's mind, and he huddled against the other man. "There ya go," said Rich, tucking the tarp around them. He reached for the zipper on Indiana's jacket. "You need to let the warmth get in," he said when the boy protested. He allowed the intrusion and almost immediately felt the difference. The looter was positively radiating heat.

"Jesus, R-Rich, why are y-you so w-wa-warm?" he chattered.

"'Cuz I'm wearin' more clothes than you, kid. I should have told you it was gonna be cold down here. My apologies."

"It's all r-r-right," said Indy. The boys lips were starting to look a little blue. Rich wrapped his legs around and through Indiana's, tightening the arm around his shoulders.

"Come on kid, stay with me." The older man began rubbing Indy's chest with his free hand, trying to improve the boy's circulation. Indiana hummed in appreciation and wriggled closer to the heat source. Rich smiled and continued rubbing, running his hands all across Indy's chest, shoulders, stomach, and sides. The boy moaned at the touch, starting to give off a little of his own heat. As his hands rubbed up and down the narrow back, Rich felt Indy's legs tighten around his own and realized there was a very persistent bulge pressed against his hip. The looter chuckled. Oh, to be sixteen again.

"Enjoying this, Indiana?" he asked quietly, directly in the young man's ear. Indy whimpered as Rich's hands began rubbing lower, over his ass, down the backs of his thighs, up his bony hips. He bucked helplessly, grinding against the other man's leg. Rich's hands roamed over every square inch of Indiana they could reach, fingers dipping below the waistband of his trousers, palms burning against the skin of his chest as they moved up under his shirt. The boy's moans and cries echoed around the cave, sounding eerie in the dark.

Soon, Indy's voice turned into nothing but a quiet "Ah! Ah! Ah!" as he panted, his motions against Rich's hip becoming more erratic. Not wanting the boy to be stuck with wet, cold trousers - thereby negating this little warm-up exercise - Rich quickly rolled him onto his back, unzipped his fly, gave his straining cock three hard pumps, and watched as Indy spilled all over his jacket. One quick swipe of the canvas neatly cleaned off the leather. Rich zipped him back up, readjusted the tarp, and rearranged the nearly-passed out Indiana Jones into their previous snuggled position.

"Warmer now?" asked Rich, still slowly running a hand up and down the boy's back.

"Uh huh," said Indy, too dazed to make any sort of coherent reply. The older man pulled him in tighter and tucked the fedora-clad head under his chin.

"Get some rest, kid. We'll work on our problem later." Indy was asleep almost instantly. Rich surveyed the cave one last time, willing his own erection to go away, before blowing out the lantern and drifting into a fitful sleep.

…

A few hours later, Indian was awakened by three things. His left leg was asleep, he was cold again, and someone was shining a bright light in his eyes. He grumbled, tried to moved, tried to figure out why there was another person wrapped around him, and then the memory hit him. He and Rich were trapped in a mine with no way out. But there was a light in the cave, and none of the lanterns were lit. It was sunlight! Indy shook the sleeping looter.

"Rich! Wake up! There's a way out!" Rich jerked and reached for the place his revolver would usually be. When he grabbed rock instead, he remembered their situation. He blinked at the light winding its way though the rocks near the ceiling of the cave.

"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "We couldn't see it at night 'cuz their was no light to shine through it." Rich rose to his feet and hauled Indy up off the ground. For the next hour, they slowly but surely climbed the rocks towards the hole, cautious not to cause any more cave-ins. When they reached the top, they realized the opening was only a few inches wide. With the careful application of the one pickaxe that had made it that far, Rich managed to widen the hole just enough for them to squeeze through. As soon as the looter's feet had cleared the exit, they heard the sound of rocks falling and watched the opening close up tightly.

The two men stood there for a minute, coughing in the dust cloud and staring dumbly at the rocks, before bursting into laughter. Indiana doubled over, unable to stop the giggles, feeling more alive than ever. Rich grabbed the fedora, beat the dust off of it, then pushed it back into the boy's head. Indy could see the affection, and something else he couldn't quite place, in the other man's eyes. He flushed a little and stood up straight.

"Um, about last night," he began. He watched that something else flare up in Rich's eyes. "I'm pretty sure you saved my life. Y'know, keeping me warm and all. I'm not sure how to thank you for that." Rich grinned and stepped closer to Indy.

"Don't worry," he said, reaching out to wipe a smudge of dirt off the boy's cheek with his thumb, fingers under Indy's chin. "I'm sure you'll think of something." Indiana blushed in earnest, feeling his face go hot. He also felt the heat pool in the pit of his stomach, remembering how Rich's hands had felt all over the rest of his body. He watched the other man saunter op the hill from under which they had just emerged.

"Camp's thataway. Let's go, kid."

Indiana had a feeling this partnership might not be so bad after all.


End file.
